


Hannor Oneshots

by Avasti



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dorks in Love, Fantasy, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Oneshot Prompts Challenge, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27035410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avasti/pseuds/Avasti
Summary: Just a bundle of little prompts I pick up along the way. Not sure how many I'll do, but they'll be here for your enjoyment. This first one is a prompt 'Hank gives Connor a piggyback ride' he gets injured and Hank carries him. Established relationship and all that Jazz :) Enjoy!
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	1. Hank gives Connor a piggyback ride

Connor moves silently through the large warehouse, wishing for the fourth time that day that he had a gun. Despite more androids on the force, therefore more androids running into dangerous situations unarmed, the government refused to legalize weapons for police androids. Markus kept his requests small. Reasonable. Rights to own property, rights to reproduce, rights to fair compensation, rights to certain vocational androids to carry issued equipment.

So far they’d only succeeded with the first two requests. Androids could now purchase and own property, but only in certain ‘android only’ housing areas. And Cyberlife relinquished production centers and the main headquarters to Markus. He was still working on changing the name to Jericho.

Many other androids on the force took the refusal to the latest request (the right to carry issued equipment) with a grain of salt, simply refusing to embark on any dangerous jobs. Connor, however, refuses to separate from Hank. They had a stuttering, cringe-worthy, and remarkably anti-climactic admission of feelings shortly after the revolution ended. Connor and Hank are finally in a committed relationship, and he’ll be damned if he lets the stubborn Lieutenant run into danger without him.

Connor shakes himself out of his musings, sharpening his focus to find the heat signature of the man that is hiding. The warehouse district is entirely surrounded, but also massive. Nearly the entire police force has been deployed to catch this man. Raymond Hass, over the past three months, has killed a rough estimate of 10 humans and 7 androids. Hank is following Connor at a distance, letting him seek out the man before charging in.

The metal of the building and blaring heat of the sun doesn’t help Connor in the slightest. He holds up a hand, effectively stopping Hank’s approach as he switches to something similar to echo-location, more aptly referred to as an advanced proximity sensors. With the patience of a predator, he waits. With his eyes closed, he forms a grid in his mind, pulsing out waves like a radar and telling him the relative proximity of the surrounding area. The grid shows a large box shaped machine to his right, the open floor plan and shelving before him and a large pile of wooden crates to his left. For now he ignores his flank, trusting his own efficiency.

Connor feels his frustration grow, the signature was in this building, he’s sure of it, so why can’t he find the man? A quote from a book floats to his mind ‘When you can’t go around or through, try over and under.’ a ridiculous sentiment that makes no sense in his current context, but it makes him think of a basement, or loft. He expands his sensors to read deeper into the ground and stretch to the ceiling. 

His eyes snap open and he looks above them, barely able to open his mouth to call out to Hank before a series of shots ring out. Two strike Connor, one in the thigh (effectively dropping him to his knee) and the other through the right side of his abdomen, about where the human kidney is located. Connor wonders where the other few shots came from, or went to, and turns back towards where Hank last was, only to get a facefull of the man’s shirt.

“Shit, Connor, are you ok?”

“Where is Hass?”

His question is answered rather viscerally as the limp body of the man crashes to the ground, a quick scan telling Connor the man is alive, but just barely. He calls surrounding officers to the scene and rings for an ambulance. He wants Hass alive.

He looks down at himself, frowning, “Hank, I-” His eyebrows raise in surprise as Hank squats with his back facing Connor.

“Climb on, we’ll get you repaired.”

Connor kneels in stupefied silence long enough for Hank to growl and pull Connor’s arms over his shoulders, “I’ll need a bit of help here, Con.”

“Right.” Connor forces himself to stand on his uninjured leg and lets Hank hoist him onto his back.

Hank chuckles to himself, “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re getting lighter.”

Connor rests his chin on the man’s shoulder, “You have been working out, Hank.”

Hank pauses his march to the waiting cars to give Connor a look, “I know that. That’s why I said- you know, nevermind.” He readjusts and keeps walking, nodding to the small army of paramedics that run past, “Con, where to? Do you need repairs?”

“Nothing I can’t fix at home. Does Captain Fowler need us in?”

“I don’t care. If a human cop got shot in the same places you did, they’d be out for a month. You get at least a few days.”

“My repairs won’t take a few days, Lieutenant.”

“Well, maybe I need a few days to recover from the heart attack you gave me after I saw you drop with the first bullet.” Connor opens his mouth to say sorry, “And don’t you start apologizing. Ain’t your fault, I just care too much.”

Hank gently deposits Connor into his car and gets behind the wheel to drive them home. Connor watches out the window, LED swirling yellow.

Hank’s deep voice brings his attention back, “Why are you yellow, Con?”

“I was sending a report to Captain Fowler. Along with an email explaining my injury and anticipated repair times and costs, followed by a disclaimer that you will probably demand medical leave for the next few days and to take any questions or concerns directly to you.” Connor offers him a sweet smile, making the older man scoff,

“Questions or concerns. I’ll tell him exactly what I told you.”

“I know that, Lieutenant. That is why I included that in my email.”

Hank falls silent, smiling vaguely as he stops for a red light, “Now, you also mentioned repair costs?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” Hank raises an eyebrow at Connor, so he continues, “New company policy that, much like humans, Androids are now allowed financial compensation for any injury obtained while in the course of employment.”

Hank makes a noise bordering on impressed, “That’s just a company policy? Not something forced on them by the president?”

“That’s correct. Markus is still in the course of arguing- ah, pardon me, negotiating-“ Hank snorts, ‘-with Madame President.”

“Androids’re still getting the short end of the stick. Don’t worry, Con. You’ll all outlive us.”

“That does not give me comfort, Lieutenant.” Hank parks in his driveway and frowns over at Connor, who continues, “That means I will have to live without you.”

He laughs and gets out, “Please, Connor. Even if you were human with the same life expectancy, I’m old and not in the best shape.”

Connor opens his door to walk, when Hank moves in front of him and kneels, pulling him onto his back. Hank carries him easily to the front door, unlocking it and stepping inside all while avoiding Sumo’s attempts to smell the both of them and lick the Thirium off Connor.

As he’s laying Connor on the couch, the android grins, “Why, Lieutenant, I think you’re remarkably fit. I was designed to be the same approximate weight as a human my height and stature and you just carried me with ease, unlocked a door, and avoided a dog that weighs almost as much as I do. I’d say, physically, you’re looking pretty good.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” He turns away to grab the plastic bin of spare parts and thirium packs and returns to Connor still grinning.

“Flattery would be false praise, I am simply being factual. Besides, based on our relatively consistent sexual interactions, I’d say-“

“Okay! Okay, enough. You win, fine, whatever. Here’s your stuff.”

Connor motions Hank closer, and once in range, he gently tugs him into an embrace, resting their foreheads together,

“Truly, Hank, thank you. For everything.”

Hank grumbles, “Dammit, I love you, Con. Just get better, yea? We can take Sumo to the park tomorrow.”

“Promise you’ll carry me more if I’m good?”

“I’d promise you the world, Connor.”


	2. Connor tries fizzy Thirium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was 'Connor tries fizzy Thirium' but I think I combined it with a bunch of other prompts? I wrote this near the beginning of the year and I've just been sitting on it since, So I figured I could post it and let other people read it.
> 
> There's a little bit of violence, but nothing out of the ordinary. Angst and love confessions 
> 
> Lemme know your thoughts and if I made any mistakes lol. I reread it and fixed some stuff but I'm only one person and I'm distracted a lot

“What the hell is that?”

Connor doesn’t look up from his work, “Thirium.”

“Well, yeah, but… why is it fizzy?”

His eyes shift to the cup of thirium on his desk, watching bubbles slowly rise to the surface, “Well, Hank. When CO2 is forced into a liquid at a high pressure, it creates effervescence, the tingly feeling most experience when consuming a carbonated beverage.”

“I know what pop is, Connor.” the grumpy Lieutenant drops himself into his seat at the desk across Connor, “Why are you drinking fizzy blood?”

“Thirium is not blood, Lieutenant. It is the-”

“I know I know, it's the fluid that powers androids biocomponents or whatever.”

Connor offers him a soft smile, “Yes, and I’m drinking it because that is the easiest way to reintroduce thirium into my system. Alternatives include injecting it into my core, if you would rather I do that.”

“Please don’t.” Hank looks distinctly uncomfortable for a moment before shaking his head, “But again… why is it fizzy.”

Connor resists the urge to continue playing ‘dumb’ and staying scientific, but Hank knows he deviated and definitely knows he can understand what is meant by ‘why’

“It’s a novelty drink from one of the few Android bars that have opened up since the uprising. I thought I’d give it a try.”

“You can consume CO2?” Hank’s brow furrows as he watches Connor take another sip through the straw.

“Yes, Hank. Theoretically androids can consume anything. Our systems have self cleaning capabilities that breaks down whatever we ingest and compress it for removal.”

“Like… a garbage disposal?”

Connor narrows his eyes, scowling, “By that definition, would Human digestive systems also be considered garbage disposal?”

Hank grins, leaning back in his chair, “Fair enough. Do you like it?”

Connor looks at the drink again, then back down to his work, “I suppose so. I wouldn’t get it everyday, due to the cost, but on special occasions…”

“Is today a special occasion?”

“Not officially.”

Hank peers at his calendar, frowning in concentration. November 6th. Close to the anniversary of Android freedom. What special thing could have occurred on this day?

Connor watches him think, smiling to himself. If the man had an LED, it would probably be red by now. He takes pity and clears his throat, “Today is the day we became partners, Lieutenant.”

“Oooh, yeah. The Ortiz murder. A full year already?”

“Almost hard to believe, isn’t it…”

“No kidding.” Hank looks over their desks at Connor, “So you’ll drink fizzy thirium on special occasions?”

“Not religiously. I might get it on a normal day. Isn’t ‘special occasion’ a phrase humans use? Simply to signify something as being uncommon?” 

Hank nods slowly, “I never really thought about it. Just pegged you as a bit more…”

He trails off and Connor raises a teasing eyebrow and offers, “Robotic?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Con.” The man shifts uncomfortably in his seat, “More like… I don’t think there’s a politically appropriate way of saying this.”

“I know what you meant, Hank. Like a phone saving holidays or habits into the calendar?”

“That sounds a bit better.”

A notification pings in the corner of Connor’s vision. A new case regarding a murder victim, all clues lead to an android murderer. He and Hank are responsible for every android crime, which gets easily overwhelming, but Captain Fowler has assured them he’s hiring on a larger task force to deal with the increase in crime rates. Androids may be free, but some humans still hate them. Androids also have rights, and in having rights, they also must be held accountable.

“Con?” Hank leans closer, concern drawing his brows together, “Everything okay?”

Connor focuses on him, “Yes, Lieutenant. I just received an alert. There has been a murder involving an android. Reporting party says they heard screaming ten minutes ago, saw an android flee the home and entered the residence to find Tobias Hunt unresponsive with multiple stab wounds.”

“Well, let’s go. Maybe our perp will still be nearby.” Hank stands and shrugs into his coat, tossing Connor’s new DPD jacket to him and leading him out into the cold air.

Upon arriving at the scene, Connor can tell the Android couldn’t have gone far. The area surrounding them is mostly fields, all wide open and revealed thanks to the most recent freeze. The only possible escape being a canal near a few large office buildings.

Connor performs a preliminary check around the entrance, “Lieutenant? The android was injured. There’s blue blood on the snow, see?”

Hank looks and nods, “Really fuckin’ recent. Think you can track ‘em?”

As he’s about to respond, they both hear the loud clatter of a ladder dropping from one of the higher buildings. Connor runs, easily spotting the android, blue dripping from a gash in their thigh.

“Stop! Detroit Police!”

Connor groans, that statement always seems to have the opposite effect, he should find a different way to get them to cooperate. The android whips around to face him, their face is feminine, hair long and tied in a messy pony, but their body is masculine. Connor’s scans tell him they’re an HR400, a Traci model designed to be male. They scan their surroundings quickly, then turn to climb the ladder. Despite their injury, they move quickly.

Connor hurries up the ladder, skipping every other rung and very nearly gets a grip on the back of their sweater before they take off at a dead run across the rooftop. They lead Connor across the top of three separate buildings until realizing their mistake. No more escapes, and Connor has them cornered. 

He suddenly wishes for a gun. Laws were still being passed to allow Androids the possession of weapons and unfortunately that extended to police. He raises his hands placatingly. He’s struck with a sense of Deja-Vu (A concept he’s still not entirely familiar with), mind going back to the mission on the roof. Saving the little girl from Daniel. He shakes the thought and slowly approaches,

“My name is Connor! We only want to talk. What happened back at the house?”

The android is starting to panic, searching for any likely route past Connor.

Connor moves closer still, “How did you know Tobias Hunt?”

Their eyes snap to him at the mention of the dead man’s name and they shake their head, stepping back further, almost at the edge of the roof.

Connor has to make a split second decision,  
**  
>Charge Android  
>Approach Slowly  
>Wait for Backup  
**  
He recognizes the look in their eye. A look of despair. Of nothingness. Fear all consuming and hopeless. They’re going to jump.

He sprints at them, reaching out to grab their arm. They mistake his charge for an attack and meet him head on, grappling against him mere inches from the edge of the building. Connor hears Hank clamber onto the roof and shout. The HR400 looks at Hank, then to Connor and whispers, “I’m sorry.” before leaping off the edge, still holding Connor.

The two are plummeting towards the water, Connor’s scans giving him a preconstructed diving plan to increase his survival rate. He reaches out to the HR400 and shows them the best way to hit the water. Both of them shift their bodies as they strike the cold canal.

The contact with the water is painful, even for an android. Water isn’t quite as forgiving from 30 feet. However, as Connor scans his system, he’s grateful he met water and not hard ground. No damage inflicted, however core temperature dropping at an alarming rate.

He swims to the concrete edge and climbs out. Shivering, he reaches out and helps the other android surface. They watch him warily, internal temperature too low to flee again. Connor tilts his head, requesting they follow, and heads back to Hank’s car. 

Other cops are on the scene now, probably arrived after Connor and Hank took chase. Connor scowls as Gavin turns towards him, cuffs in hand. The detective gets the suspect under custody and into the safety of his patrol car, then turns to Connor. He’s expecting insults, jokes at his expense, maybe a comment about wanting Connor to hit concrete instead of water. But as the man approaches, there’s a hint of worry on his brow,

“You look cold…”

“Yes, Detective Reed. It is 36 degrees and I fell into a canal. Error codes are telling me my core temperature is decreasing, but thank you for your observation.”

The man scoffs and rolls his eyes, but tosses a clean woolen blanket at Connor, “Here. It’s for trauma victims, but should work just fine to keep you warm.”

He walks away, leaving Connor speechless.

A call from Hank pings at the edge of his vision, and he answers, teeth clacking as he attempts to restrain a full body shudder,

“I’m fine, Hank.”

“Jesus fucking Christ Connor, I thought- Fuck, I thought I lost you.”

“The case, did you find a hint to-”

“Is work all you think about? Fuckin android.”

“Hank.” his tone comes out clipped and he blinks in surprise with himself. Irritability? 

He’s suddenly standing in his mind palace. The Zen garden is gone and replaced with a mossy pond. Clear blue water disturbed by the occasional burble of fish. Rocks, trees, and weeds surround him and the moss is soft and spongy under foot. He turns in a slow circle, eyes wide and taking in the beauty of his new environment. It smells thickly of dirt and rain and something distinctly _green_. He moves closer to the water, peering in and smiling at the fish that hurry past his reflection. He frowns in concentration. 

There’s something vaguely red at the bottom of the pond. His focus alters to provide a clearer analysis and he jumps back upon fully seeing the rose. It’s never been under water before. Not only that, but it looks like it’s dying. Maybe Amanda’s influence is finally starting to wear off.

Something else shimmers in the pond and Connor hears a warbled sound over the hum of the surrounding wildlife.

“What?”

“I said, you’re freezing!! Get in the damn car!”

Hank literally shakes Connor, who is still standing rooted to the spot in front of the Hunt house. Connor blinks, then nods, “Yeah, car. Yeah.”

He gets in, trying to keep the blanket secured around his body and under him so the water doesn’t seep into the plush seating. Hank climbs in the driver's seat and cranks the heat,

“Where’d you get the blanket?”

“Detective Reed.”

“No shit?” Connor nods and Hank focuses on the road, “Honestly, Con. You scared me when I found you just standing there. Reminded me of when you made reports to Cyberlife, all still and…”

Connor looks at him, “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I experienced a new emotion, and if you remember, I-”

“Oh, I remember. You get teleported to that stupid mind palace place those fucks at Cyberlife gave all androids.”

“Hank, please stop interrupting me!” Connor feels his own eyebrows raise in surprise at his clipped tone, “Oh… Um… I’m sorry, Lieutenant.”

Hank peers over at him, still keeping an eye on the road ahead, “No, you’re right, I’m sorry. I just thought… I thought I lost you. So, what happened back there? What new emotion?”

Connor feels another surge of irritability, he feels like a child, forced to sort through the awful new emotions while still expected to act like an adult, “When I got out of the canal… your comment about work… I don’t want someone getting away with murder.”

Hank stays silent, biting his lower lip to refrain from speaking and allows Connor to continue,

“And… I…” Connor looks over at the Lieutenant, “Hank, please stop calling me an android like it’s a bad thing.”

“What?!” Lucky they’re at a red light, otherwise Hank likely would have caused a crash, “Connor, I don’t think it’s bad that you’re an Android.”

“Sometimes when you call me an android it... sounds like a bad thing. Does it bother you that I’m an android?”

Hank looks pained, and Connor feels heavy sadness settle in his core. He doesn’t want to analyze the silence, even as it stretches far past what is humanely comfortable. Maybe he doesn’t want to know the truth. He sighs and opens the door, “I’m going home, Lieutenant. I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”

“Wait, Con! Let me-”

Connor shuts the door before he can hear more. The light is now green and the cars behind Hank loudly show their annoyance at his lack of movement. Connor doesn’t stay to find out what he does. He hugs his arms around himself, having left the blanket behind, and walks away. His apartment truly isn’t far. Only a three minute walk, one at the rate he’s currently going.

The cold air hurries his steps and the doorman gives him a funny look when he walks in. Really, he shouldn’t be surprised. Soaked to the bone, still in uniform, with tears running down his cheeks. Cyberlife’s best.

He unlocks the door to his apartment with haste, pulling off soaked clothes and tossing them in the hamper. He’ll do a laundry run after he showers. While doing laundry, he will probably also have to deal with Hank. 

Connor knows he’s being foolish. Impulsive and bratty and juvenile, but he can’t help it. He can’t hold it back. He climbs into the shower and turns up the hot water. This human essential quickly became a favorite novelty for all Androids. Showers aren’t necessary, but act as a wonderful relaxer. The hot water beating on his back at high pressures, the scent of his body wash wafting over him and helping unravel tightly bound feelings.

He should call Hank.

Hank beats him to it. Connor is just washing the last bit of soap from his hair when he gets the call. Without thinking, he answers,

“Hello, Lieutenant.”

“Connor, whatever I did, I’m sorry. I don’t-” a pause, “Are… are you showering?”

“I’m just about done, but yes.”

Hank is eerily silent. Connor turns off the shower and steps out, grabbing a towel and rubbing himself down, 

“Lieutenant?”

“Yeah, sorry Con. I’m here. What was I doing… oh, apologizing. So, I feel like I need to explain, will you listen?”

Connor smiles at his reflection in the mirror, glad Hank remembers Connor’s request to get permission before he monologues, “Yes, Hank.”

“When I say things like ‘fucking android’ and the like, I mean it as a term of endearment. Like when I call Sumo a piece of shit. I mean it in a loving way.”, Connor’s eyebrows skyrocket and he hears Hank inhale sharply before continuing, “But I’ll uh… I’ll stop if you want me to.”

He hums. Why did the phrase hurt him today? “You can continue saying it Hank, just not out of annoyance. I can’t take that from you…”

“It’s a deal, Con.” They enjoy a shared silence before Hank blurts out, “Why the fuck are you showering?”

Connor laughs and leaves the bathroom, walking to his bedroom and grabbing a pair of DPD sweatpants before moving to his hamper, “I fell in a rancid canal, Hank. While I don’t personally produce any body odor, outside elements still affect my hygiene. Also… It’s relaxing.”

“You’re adorable, Con. Listen, Jeffrey is busting my balls for you taking off after the investigation. I don’t think he needs you in, but what say we meet somewhere and talk over what we found. Say… 7?”

“Jimmy’s bar lifted the Android ban…” not to mention Connor had frequented the place with Markus as he tried to spread his influence to establishments that still hated and/or feared androids. Jimmy has become something of a friend.

“Seriously? Yeah. Sounds like a plan. I’ll meet you there.”

Connor ends the call and looks at his closet. His wardrobe expanded significantly over the last year, and he finally owns some casual clothing. Mostly at Hank's insistence. For all his grumbling, he sure did enjoy dressing Connor up. 

He grabs a maroon long sleeve t-shirt and a pair of jeans and gets dressed, laying the sweatpants on his bed for tonight. He takes his hamper to the basement laundry services and loads it, setting the wash to ‘light’ and sitting for the remainder of the cycle. 

The machine beeps and Connor pulls his clothing out, riding the elevator back to his apartment and hanging the clothes carefully before looking around the room. He’s fully dressed and ready to go, but it’s only 5. He could get there early. Maybe bring a book…

Connor nods to himself, early it is. He grabs his keys, locking the door, and calls for a taxi. It takes five minutes to arrive at the bar and Connor grins at the new sign on the door declaring ‘Androids Welcome!’ He walks in and nods to Jimmy.

“You need some Blue, Connor?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Connor sits and watches the bartender pour thirium from a tap into a glass for him. He’d taken to just calling it Blue, since the word ‘blood’ tends to make humans squeamish. Connor pulls his book open. Hank loaned it to him, something about the paper giving an extra level of emotion. He reads quietly, slowly drinking the glass of thirium. His internal clock says it’s 6:34 when he marks the page he’s on and finishes the drink. 

Despite not needing to, Connor stretches, feeling wiring and plating in his back shift and realign. He enjoys the sensation far more than simply recalibrating and it makes him feel human. Makes him look human too, if the patron approaching him on the left is anything to go by.

The man is drunk, his blood alcohol level already beyond legal to drive. He leans against the bartop and stares at Connor, grinning and trying to look charming. He only succeeds in looking lecherous. Connor attempts to ignore him and return to his book, but the man grabs his wrist,

“You have real pretty hands.”

Connor pulls his hand away easily, refusing to answer.

“You’re real pretty too. Stretchin’ all sexy-like to get my attention.” the man inches closer, wiggling his eyebrows in a way he probably meant to be attractive.

“That was not my intention. Excuse me, I’d like to be alone.” Connor turns back to his book, pretending to read, but focusing on the drunk beside him. The man was previously arrested for damaging an android on the street. Originally just a fine, but he wouldn’t stop. Not until the android had to be completely replaced. 

Connor is immediately conscious of the spinning LED on his right temple. Jimmy notices too, approaching as the light spins red and addresses the man, “Hey, Mason. I cut you off already, man. Go home. Get a cab.”

“Nah, Jim, I’m goin’. Just want this sexy piece of ass to come home with me. Whaddya say, baby? I’ll getcha another drink, then we can hang at my place. Jim, another of the same?”

Jimmy looks at Connor, who sighs, “It’s okay. I’ll tell him.”

“Ooh, tell me what?”

Connor turns bodily to face the man, revealing his LED, “I’m an android. It’s likely you would not want to have sex with me.”

If Connor weren’t so nervous, it would be comedic how long the man took to process both his words and the glowing light at his temple. Not all processes are dulled with alcohol however, as with surprising speed, the man grabs Connor’s shirt front and hauls him to his feet,

“Fuckin plastic whore! Who gave you the right to come in here, huh?”

“The President did.”

He jostles Connor, causing the bar to press painfully into his chassis, “You’ve got a real smart mouth on you, huh… I can fix that.” he pulls his arm back, primed to strike Connor, when Jimmy clears his throat,

“You hurt him, you’ll have to deal with Hank.”

“What did you say?”

“That’s Hank’s android you got there. You know how he’ll feel if the kid goes home injured.”

Connor feels a strange kick in his thirium pump. Hank’s android? Slavery of Androids was abolished, he doesn’t belong to anyone. The phrase should make him angry. Should annoy him. Why then does he _like_ hearing it. He’s so caught up in his musings, he misses the far too obvious punch.

The drunkard’s swing was sloppy, hitting Connor’s nose and lip hard enough to make him taste thirium. Connor chastises himself silently for losing focus, and spins the drunk man around, shoving him against the bar and holding his arms behind him. Jimmy called the police as the punch connected, the alert going straight to Connor. No doubt Hank also got it. Crimes involving androids. 

He checks the clock on the wall. Analogue. A very uncommon device now. 6:59. Hank bursts through the doors, eyes wide and breathing hard,

“Connor!”

He takes in the scene, the struggling drunk man pinned against the bar by his unforgiving and ridiculously strong partner. His unforgiving and ridiculously strong partner who is bleeding. 

“Lieutenant, I do not have cuffs on me. If you would be so kind?”

“Shit, yeah. Gavin is pulling up with a beat cop.” Hank hurries over and cuffs the man, “What happened?”

Connor opens his mouth to answer, but the drunk blurts out, “This robot slut was trying to trick me into taking it home! Got real aggressive so I defended myself is all!”

Once Hank has the struggling man restrained, Connor grimaces and wipes at his lip. He’s not damaged by any means, but similar to humans, android’s noses bleed pretty significantly after a strike to the face. He accepts a wet towel, offered by Jimmy, and starts wiping away the blood.

Gavin walks in and takes the cuffed man, “Hey, Connor. Send me a recording of what happened?”

Connor nods, “It’s been sent to your email, Detective.”

The man clearly wants to stay and hear the story, but instead leaves with the struggling man. Hank gently touches Connor’s shoulder and takes the towel,

“Jesus, Connor. I thought you could predict this kinda shit. You didn’t get hit once when you were fighting yourself back in Cyberlife…”

“I was… distracted this time.”

“By what?”

“Um…” He looks at Jimmy, who is standing at the far end of the bar, intently cleaning a glass and pretending not to hear, “You, Lieutenant.”

“Me?!”

Connor sets the towel down on the bartop, leaving a hefty tip for Jimmy next to it and grabs the book to fidget with, “When that man was threatening to harm me, Jimmy told him that I’m yours. He called me Hank’s Android…” He looks down at the yellowing pages, “I think I liked it.”

“Connor, you aren’t a slave anymore. You don’t belong to anyone.”

“That’s not the only time I’ve heard it, and it doesn’t always mean literally belonging to someone, right?” Connor peeks up at the man, and Hank nods, “So what does it mean when a couple says it about each other?”

“I suppose it changes by the couple. For some it’s abusive and controlling. For some it’s avoiding the ‘L’ word. For others it’s simply a loving exchange.”

Connor’s LED spins yellow for a while as he frowns at Hank. He searches all possible context and outcomes from an exchange of that sort. Finds movies and tv shows that use the phrasing. Typically in a violent or stressful situation. Being someone else’s doesn’t mean belonging to them, It means remaining under their protection. ‘We’re together. Mess with them, you mess with me’ so to speak. Hank has shown his care for Connor. Day after day, even when Connor himself is beyond confused and lashes out, Hank is patient and reaches out to smooth things over. Even when he is not at fault. 

Connor doesn’t realize he’s crying until Hank brushes an errant tear away, “Connor?”

Hank lets out a soft grunt as Connor throws his arms around him, burying his face in the older man’s neck. 

“I’m yours, Lieutenant. Thank you for staying with me and I’m sorry for being so emotional all the time.”

Hank’s pulse thunders and Connor feels the man’s skin heat. He clears his throat and holds Connor close, “H-hey, you got a lot to sort through. No normal man could figure out their emotions in a year. Usually it takes 30-40 for humans, and even then we never really do it right.”

“I have the emotional capacity of a teenager.”

“You don’t need to be so hard on yourself.”

Connor leans back, laughing softly as he wipes away the errant tears, “No, Lieutenant. Statistically speaking, I do have the emotional capacity of a teenager. Unpredictable mood swings, extreme highs and lows, uncalled for outbursts of anger followed by a tantrum and mild regret…” He moves back to his seat, heat rising to his cheeks in a way he wasn’t aware was possible, “I’m sorry for running away. It was unprofessional.”

Hank stares at him, mouth slightly open and a hint of a smile on his lips. Connor looks hesitantly at him, “Hank?”

“You’re blushing. I didn’t know androids could blush.” Hank reaches out and ruffles his hair, “It’s cute.”

“Cute?” Connor internally kicks himself. He’d meant to be flattered, receiving any compliment from Hank is rare. But rather than flattered, he almost sounded offended. Cute? He didn’t want to be cute. Not to Hank. He could understand if the Lieutenant only saw him as another dependent. A salve over the wound of Cole. A new hopeless childlike figure to act as a father for. But RA9, he hopes that isn’t the case.

Hank stands, “Hows about we take this to my place? I gotta feed Sumo and he’s been missing you something terrible.”

“Sure.”

“Yeah?”

“Okay, Lieutenant.” Connor stands and follows Hank to his car.

The drive back to Hank’s house is comfortably silent. As they pull in the driveway, Hank breaks the stillness, “Connor, why do you call me Lieutenant all the time?”

“It is your title.”

“We’re friends, Con. You don’t gotta use my title all the time.”

“Think of it as my version of ‘fucking android’.” 

Connor’s matter-of-fact tone joined with possibly the first curse word Hank has ever heard escape his mouth causes the older man to laugh. Letting out a short, ‘Heh.’ opens the gateway for full bellied laughter, causing tears to stream from his eyes. Connor stares at Hank in concern as he slowly recovers from his giggles,

“Lieutenant, I did not mean that as a joke.”

“Oh, I know Connor. It’s just the way you said it, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear.”

He smiles, watching Hank wipe tears from his eyes, “We should go inside. Sumo is likely hungry.”

Hank glances at him and opens the door, “You know my dogs schedule better than I do.”

Connor follows him to the house, kneeling as Hank releases the 170 pound barrel of love into the yard. Sumo seems dead set on a patch of grass until he spots Connor. With a thundering _’Boof!’_ he plows into him, nearly knocking him to the ground.

The only reason he stays upright is because Connor has the strength of a freight train.

Connor laughs and smothers the spoiled creature with affection. Scratching behind his ears and under his chin. Connor didn’t think about it until a few months ago, but his turn into Deviancy likely started when he found Hank passed out in his home. His short inspection of the house followed by stroking Sumo and finalized with the realization that Hank means more to him than his mission necessitates. Connor was almost fully deviant at that point, he just needed the push that Markus gave him.

He stands and walks inside, holding the door for Sumo, who does his business hastily, then bounds back towards the house. The massive dog trots happily over to his bed and flops down. Connor smiles, then looks around. 

He’s never been called cute before. In fact, he’s never had any pet names before. Hank occasionally calls him ‘Con’, but that hardly counts. Maybe he’s reading too far into it. The phrase ‘I’m yours’ doesn’t always mean romantically. It could easily be platonic, even familial. Cute rides the fine line too. As far as he’s aware, Hank considers him family. But does that mean father/son or something else? Like Markus and North? 

Hank’s deep voice pulls him out of his musings, “Your night light is red, Con.”

“I’m just thinking, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah? Well, that light on your head is like a really accurate mood ring. What’s going on?”

Dressed now in flannel pajamas and an old band shirt, Hank sits on the couch, patting the spot to his left as if coaxing a timid cat out of a bush. 

Connor sighs and sits next to him, resorting to his default perfect posture. He rarely uses the posture around Hank, simply because it annoys the man, but Connor can’t relax. He rests his hands on his knees because if they were anywhere else, Hank would see how much he’s shaking. He clears his throat free of a non-existent blockage and speaks softly, deciding to play ignorant as long as he can,

“That man at the bar wanted to take me to his home.”

“The guy we arrested?” Hank looks a little miffed at Connor’s stiff posture, but temporarily says nothing.

Connor nods, “Mason McDonald, yes. He wasn’t aware that I am an android, and tried to get me to go home with him. He didn’t explicitly say what he’d like to do to me, but I can assume…”

“Why didn’t you go with him?”

He squints over at Hank, “You’re joking, right?”

The older man rolls his eyes, “Would I fuckin ask if I was joking? You’re allowed to be your own person.”

Connor gapes at him, then shakes himself out of it, “I didn’t go with him for multiple reasons. The most glaring being his anti-android sentiments.”

“What if he wasn’t against androids?”

Connor runs a diagnostic on Hank. Vitals are normal, heart rate is slightly raised from usual resting, blood alcohol level is an even zero. Connor leans back against the couch, crossing his arms and legs, frowning at the man next to him.

Hank huffs and flicks Connor’s ear, “Hey. I thought you promised to stop running diagnostics on me without my consent.”

“I did. When you didn’t ask such strange questions. Why are you asking, Hank?”

“Because!”

“That is not an acceptable answer.”

“Listen, Inspector Gadget.” Connor rolls his eyes at the new nickname, “I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into. If you want to be intimate with someone, you should know all the ins and outs. Literally.”

“Lieutenant, I’m fully versed in human anatomy. My previous interface with Traci models allows me to access their official programming, therefore I am also capable of seducing and performing intercourse with a partner.”

“Jesus, would you just answer my question! Would you have agreed to go with that guy?”

Hank’s ears tint pink as his blush moves up his neck and Connor resists the urge to scan him again, instead he speaks, “No, Hank. I would not have joined him.”

“Why?”

“I need a reason?” Connor holds up a hand as Hank begins to stutter out another curse, “Fine! I don’t love him.”

“Connor, you don’t gotta love someone to fuck them.”

“I know, but I already love someone else.” Connor clamps his jaw shut, mentally screaming as Hank leans forward, fully invested in this impromptu interrogation.

“Who? Do I know them? Do we work with them?” Hank sounds both terribly upset, and even more defensive, as if he’s prepared to fight for his honor.

“Hank.”

“Come on, Con! Your first love! It’s scary shit, I’m just here to help.”

Connor closes his eyes, “Yes, Hank. You know them. I work with them.”

“Oh shit. It’s not Gavin, is it?”

“I already told you who it is.” Connor finds himself wishing he could turn back the hands of time. Re-do this entire conversation from the beginning and not have to confess his love to the man himself.

“You…” There’s silence as Hank replays the conversation in his head, “No, you just said that I know them. That you work with them. You didn’t say a name.”

“I did, Hank.” Connor looks at the older man. He knows pain is written all over his face. He’s expecting Hank to lash out. Panic and send him away, request a new partner, do everything in his power to never see Connor again. 

He watches the realization pass over his features, first mild surprise, then actual shock. “Shit, me??”

Connor looks down at his lap, keeping his limbs crossed as some sort of physical representation of the barriers he’s trying to erect to save his artificial heart. He’s already playing it out in his head. Hank will stand, tell Connor it’s late and he’ll call him a cab. The next morning Connor will be called into Fowler’s office and the man will explain that he needs to move Connor to a different department. It will be seamless. Technically harmless. But Connor won’t be able to cope. He’ll quit. Maybe start working full time for Markus, start up an Android police force with Connor as the main detective. It won't be so bad after a while, but the ache of loss will follow Connor for the rest of his very lengthy existence.

Hank’s arm appears across his vision, reaching around Connor to pull him into a hug, “Con, did you hear anything I just said? Your mood ring was angry…”

He blinks in surprise, Hank had said something? How did he not hear? He runs a quick self diagnostic, but everything comes back green. Hank is also hugging him, not shoving him out the door. The arms around him squeeze just a bit tighter, and Connor loosens his arms, letting himself be pulled into Hank’s warm embrace and very carefully hugging him back.

Connor swears he short circuits when Hank kisses his temple, “Connor, are you sure? I’m an old man, I’m sure you could find-”

“I don't want to.”

“God help me.”

Connor pulls away, frowning at Hank again, “I don’t understand, should I leave?”

“Please don’t leave.” He looks conflicted, “Con, I’m no good at emotional stuff…”

“I’m shocked, Lieutenant.” His deadpan response gets a snort out of Hank

“Shaddup. Listen, I’m not guaranteeing this’ll go perfectly, but… shit what the hell.”


	3. Mermaid AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought of this and wrote it ages ago after getting inspiration from a piece someone made. I've been sitting on it a while, and figured if I slap it out here, maybe someone will kick me in the pants to continue.
> 
> Connor is a Mermaid, Hank and Cole visit, Markus is Connor's favorite handler, Amanda is the bad guy.

Connor flinches as a loud thudding echoes through his water. Another angry parent stands near one of the glass panes holding him in and knocks loudly. Signs demand everywhere that people do not knock on the glass, or yell, or throw things. But people don’t care. They want to see him do tricks. Spin around for their entertainment. Not hide in the cave he is given as a bed.

Which happens to be exactly what he’s doing. He lays in the dipped stone, lazily watching parent’s faces turn red and children shrug and walk away. They can spot him if they truly care. His tail is long and he’s draping it out the entrance to his little nest. He knows what he’s doing. No one at this prison believes he’s smart enough to understand. Except  _ maybe _ his handler. Markus is kind to him, talking to him even before he learned Connor could understand and respond. Markus tried to petition the Zoo to change Connor’s placard from RK800 to his actual name, but they ignored him. Connor’s official owner is a disgustingly rich woman, Amanda. She bought him from some sailors, who had accidentally caught him in their nets. They’d planned on letting him go, but how many poor men could refuse millions of dollars.

Connor grits his teeth as the pounding starts again. A cranky looking middle aged man with a small army of children. The majority of his visitors are angry. Watching him clinically through the glass, or rolling their eyes at their children’s insistence that he is  _ really _ a mermaid. He’s starting to dislike human adults.

  
  


Evenings are quieter. The rabble of school children gone, and replaced with adults on dates and teenagers roaming the park. Connor lays on a rock above the surface, watching fluffy clouds drift overhead. His area doesn’t get much traffic at night, especially not on the surface. Most people opt for birds, or butterflies, or the predators during dinner time.

He keeps his tail in the water, swishing it around to create tiny waves in the pool. The park doesn’t know of his capability to walk outside of the water. His entire family has the ability to change at will, whether in water or out. It’s just easier to keep his contact, lest he forget and change accidentally.

Not to mention, he’d be naked.

He flinches as a stone splashes in the water next to his head. He sits up and glares at the teens standing at the fence separating them from his pool. It’s not the first time someone has thrown a rock at him and it won't be the last, but it never fails to irritate him. 

One of the boys nudges the one next to him and looks at Connor, “Do a trick, Ariel!”

How original.

Knowing if he sticks around they’ll likely continue throwing things, Connor slips silently into the depths of the pool and dives to the bottom. Overnight, his favorite place to lay is a flat rock right next to a window. The window has a direct view across the room to the communal aquarium. Where all the fish he’s familiar with swim together like their own ecosystem.

His aim is to go to his rock, but he sees a child. The boy is just staring into the water, a small smile on his lips. The smile splits into a massive grin as he catches sight of Connor. It’s a fairly common reaction to those who haven’t seen him yet, but it never fails to warm his heart. He swims closer and lifts his hand in greeting.

The boy waves back, looking about ready to explode, and turns his head. He doesn’t yell like Connor is expecting, but just speaks. Calling out to his dad. Connor sighs internally and looks towards the father to decide if it’s worth the effort to ignore his demands. 

It isn’t often he’s surprised by a visitor. But this one… the man’s eyes are kind, the skin around them crinkle as he smiles at his son, walking over good-naturedly to peer into the once empty tank. Once he lays his beautiful blue eyes on Connor his mouth opens in shock. 

Connor watches him carefully and moves closer to the glass, pressing his palm against it at a reasonable height for the boy to respond in kind. 

The boy hesitates, looking up at his dad for confirmation. Connor watches their exchange, not bothering with reading lips and smiles when the boy finally puts his hand across Connor’s.

They watch each other, both smiling and studying. Connor tilts his head, noticing the boy getting more fidgety. He turns to his father and asks a question, then back to Connor and mouths, very clearly,

“You’re beautiful.”

Connor’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open. A visitor has never spoken to him like this. They hurl insults or demands, but never compliments. He looks up at the father, who smiles even wider and nods, 

“You are beautiful.”

He’s overwhelmed. He backs off from the glass, holding his hand over his heart, looking between both of them. He can’t speak underwater, but he can try to get his point across in the same way they are.

“Thank you.”

Now it’s their turn to be surprised. The father looks amazed and the son looks ecstatic. They speak between each other too fast for Connor to follow, then turn to him, both attempting to speak to him.

He holds up his hands for them to stop, then points up. If they join him at the surface, they can actually talk. The child is the first to understand and nods fiercely, grabbing his dad’s hand and dragging him from the room. 

Connor peers at the clock in the corner of the room and smiles, it’s dinnertime. He never has visitors past 6. Feeling giddy, he speedily swims to the surface. Before breaking the surface, he checks the observation. The boys have gone, thankfully. So Connor waits, splashing around eagerly whilst keeping an eye out for the man and his son. He talks quietly to himself, humming and coughing to ensure his voice isn’t coarse from under-use.

His new visitors come around the corner and Connor swims as close as he can get, smiling as they both surge to meet him at the railing.

The boy is first to speak,

“My name is Cole! This is my dad, his name is Hank! You’re super beautiful!”

Connor laughs, a reaction he’s grown unused to, and responds, “Thank you. My name is Connor.”

The father, Hank, looks down at the placard, “Not RK800?” There’s a teasing lilt to his deep voice.

“No, that’s the title they chose for me when I was brought here.”

Cole climbs up the railing to get closer, “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be free like humans?”

“Well,” Connor gets comfortable on a rock nearest them, “The people who stole me don’t know anything about me.”

“They don’t know you can talk??”

He shakes his head, “I can walk too. I just can’t get out of my enclosure.”

“Well, my dad’s a cop! He can get you out!” Cole looks at his father, “Right, dad? You’ll help him?”

Hank hesitates, looking between the two as he finds the right words, “Cole, buddy. I don’t know what I could do. There…. Aren’t really rights for mermaids. Up until now, no one knew they existed.” he shoots Connor an apologetic smile.

Connor knows this. Markus tries almost every day to escape with him. To get him out of the view of cameras and to the freedom of his home. “It would take a massive distraction to get me out of here. And then what? Live in hiding? Go back to my family and lead the poachers there?”

Cole frowns, considering his options with determined ferocity, “We could hide you at our house! You said you can walk, right? So you’d just be another person!” 

“Cole, his face is everywhere. People would notice.”

“But then we could show them he’s another person! That he deserves rights like you and me!”

Hank looks pained. Clearly wanting to help but powerless to do so. Connor decides to change the subject, “Cole? Tell me about yourself?”

This opens the floodgates, Cole telling Connor everything. His school, his friends, his mom, his dad, his hobbies, their dog, his birthday, you name it. Connor loves every second of it. He learns everything there is to know about Cole, and a good amount about Hank too. 

In the middle of a long story about Hank’s most recent arrest (told from the innocent perspective of a ten year old) the speakers announce the ten minute mark to closing time.

Both humans make disappointed sounds and Connor laughs, “I’ll always be here when you want to visit again. You…  _ will _ visit again, right?”

Cole nods determinately, “Yes. We have a season pass!”

Hank ruffles the boy's hair and smiles at Connor, “We will do our best. It’s spring break, so if Cole is good and does all his chores, maybe we can make it a daily thing.”

Connor watches them leave with a smile on his face. He’d never met such kind humans. He wishes he could leave with them. Something pulls at his heart. He feels like he knows Hank from somewhere, some deep primal part of him demands to be reunited. He hopes he can escape. Maybe Hank will feel the same?

Oh, what is he thinking. Connor shakes his head and swims lazily around his glass cage. They just met. Not to mention Hank probably has a lover, he also seems the practical sort. Not one to lose himself to a pretty face or an infantile idea such as soulmates. Connor’s brothers would laugh at him. The stories their mother used to tell, about some people connected by strings of fate.

_ She sat on the floor of their underwater home, surrounded by her eight boys, holding Connor, the youngest, on her lap. Her flowing black hair swished around her shoulders as she told the story to her boys.  _

_ “It all started many many years ago. Our ancestors used to be much more fishlike. Scales covering their whole bodies, mouths unable to produce words to communicate with the humans. Their hands were webbed and their eyes like that of an angler! Conventionally unattractive, even by fish standards.” She pauses her story to wink at the older boys, who giggle and elbow each other. _

_ “One of them got caught by a fishing boat. She’d ventured too near the surface, her curiosity at the strange two legged beings overwhelmed her good sense. The humans took her to study, holding her in a large pool of water and throwing fish and different foods for her to eat. Until one scientist stayed to speak with her. They couldn’t understand each other, but there was a pull. An invisible rope tying their two hearts together. Though they didn’t speak the same tongue, they understood each other. They grew to love each other in such a short time, the rest of the scientists thought the man had lost his mind. After much planning and preparation, he freed her back into her home. But their hearts ached at the separation. Every day they met at the shore, the human venturing deep into the water, just to be with her and she climbed up on shore just to touch him. Their love grew physical, and she was blessed with a child. _

_ “Despite their inability to live together, they both loved and raised this child. One who looked closer to us now. Humanoid face and torso with a fish-like tail. They had more children, for their love knew no bounds, and soon they had produced a wonderful litter. The children found love of their own, with other children of the sea, save one. The youngest saved a human woman, and the two were drawn together. Their story near identical to that of the first. And so the stories continued. It’s rumored that your very own father is a child of that love, but his father died before he could ask.” _

_ She looked at each boy individually, smiling conspiratorially, “Maybe someday one of you will happen across a human. Continue the beautiful line of interspecies relationships?” _

_ Her laughter bounced off the walls as each of the older seven sons shouted and swam away, all refusing to believe such a silly tale. They didn’t want to think about gross things such as kissing or love. They wanted adventure and swordfights. All but Connor. Who sat pensively in his mother’s lap. _

_ “Momma? Is that story true? Do you think I have a soulmate?” _

_ “Yes, dear one. I think everyone does, and I pray you find them. No matter the race or gender, we will love and support you.” _

Connor jumps as a loud tapping on his glass prison startles him from his memories. Amanda, the woman who purchased him, is standing there, grinning predatorily at him. She points at the door he uses to leave when they clean the pool, and he sees it’s open. Dread sinks to the pit of his stomach as he swims to the room.

His anxieties simmer down slightly as he catches sight of Markus, but immediately reads the environment. Armed security stands at attention, two by the door and one by the edge of his pool. Markus and two other zoo employees stand near Connor’s feeding trough, and by habit, he swims over. 

Amanda walks in, using a panel near the door that Connor has never seen anyone touch. The room fills with noise and Connor looks around in a panic. He feels something touch his fin and upon looking down, realizes the floor is rising, lowering the water level.

Markus quietly soothes him, and the floor stops, leaving just about a foot of water. Connor sits, tail off to the side much as he’s seen girls do when they sit on the ground. He feels vulnerable with nowhere to flee.

Amanda approaches him, “RK800, can you understand me?”

Connor looks at her, then quickly back to Markus. It’s no secret that Markus is his favorite caretaker, and the two of them had discussed what to do if this situation ever arises.

Amanda snaps her fingers, “RK800!”

He watches her hand, then peers at her face as she continues, “Can you understand me?”

He stares blankly, confusion drawing his brows together.

Markus stands, “Ms.Stern, it is-”

“Amanda.” her voice is clipped

“Ah… Amanda. It- the RK800, is not capable of human conversation. He can speak his own language but so far we haven’t discerned any meaning. He responds much like any other wild animal.”

“He seems rather attached to you. Don’t think we haven’t seen the security videos. You and this creature speaking with each other like you’re friends. Explain that to me, if he can’t speak our language or understand us, why do you converse with him?”

Connor watches color flood Markus’ face. They both knew about the cameras, but they could only be so careful. Markus used his blush to his advantage,

“It’s… embarrassing. I don’t really have time for friends and… I dunno, he always kinda listened to me. Like Sophie does with the seals.” He shrugs and rubs his neck

She squats in front of Connor so suddenly, it makes him flinch. He moves his tail behind his body and holds his torso up with his arms, prepared to flee further into the water as soon as the opportunity presents itself.

He’s entirely unprepared for her to grab his chin. She’s fast and his reaction is purely primal. As she holds his chin firmly, his lip curls and a warning snarl erupts from his chest. The bystanders in the room look panicked, one of the security guards reaching out,

“Miss Stern? You should release him. He is a wild animal. He’s dangerous.”

Markus nods, true terror in his eyes, “Please. He’s not a pet. Not domesticated. Consider him more of a predator, like a shark or lion. Please let him go, he’s going to attack.”

She practically shouts, making Connor impulsively pull away, thus forcing her grip to strengthen, “He’s mine! He knows who owns him and will treat me with the love and respect I deserve!”

She meets his snarl with one of her own and moves the hand on his chin to stroke a thumb over his cheek, “Don’t you, my sweet. You wouldn’t harm me. You’re  _ mine _ .”

Her forefinger brushes over his mouth, pushing at plump lips to reveal impossibly sharp teeth, and he takes the opportunity. Quick as any other predator, he clamps his teeth down on her finger like a vice, the strength of his jaw snapping bone and separating the finger from her hand. She screams, her wails echoing painfully in the enclosed space. Connor spits out the finger and slinks further into the water, keeping just his eyes above to watch her and the security closely.

To his surprise, no one goes after him. The reaction was purely instinct and he shudders at the remnants of coppery blood on his tongue. All at once the floor recedes, and water refills his small space. The security guards take the screaming woman out of the room, likely to a hospital, and Markus and the other zoo employees watch Connor carefully. One of them picks up the appendage and shudders, running from the room with it.

Markus turns to the remaining girl, “Please, tell our manager what happened. I don’t want him hurt because of her mistake.” The girl nods and flees, eager to escape the room. Connor wishes he could run away too.

He barely lifts his mouth above water and whispers, “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. Listen. There’s going to be a meeting about this. I’ll do everything I can to clear you, but Amanda is going to do everything in her power to get leadership to release you into her care. I’ll let you back into the main pool, but just…. Be careful, Connor.” He opens the door separating the rooms and Connor hurries through, eager to hide in his little cave.

...

Exhibition Closed. Markus sits by the edge of the pool with Connor, holding the sign. The decision was made quickly and Markus received the notice the next morning. Connor was only upset that he wouldn’t see Hank or Cole again. Not even from a distance, as the entire portion of the zoo he’s in got cordoned off.

Markus gently set the sign aside, “Anyway. It looks like they're going to let you off the hook - ah - no pun intended.” Connor rolls his eyes, and Markus continues, “But Amanda is pissed.”

“What would have happened if they’d decided I was too dangerous?”

“One of two things; offer you to Amanda, since she’s the one who donated you. Or kill you and donate your body to science.”

Connor flinches, “Markus, I can’t- I can’t let them find my family. They’re likely already searching for them in the sea I came from.”

“I’m trying, Connor. But everything I can think of would put you directly in Amanda’s grasp!” He stands, shoulders slumped, “I gotta get back to work. I’ll see you at seven for dinner, ok?”

Connor nods, watching Markus go. He wishes he could do more. Get out and flee. Instead, he goes back to his cave, curling up facing the dark wall, and pretends to be home until he falls asleep.

...

A hearty splash rouses Connor from his dreamless sleep. Markus is early and, from the sounds of it, mad. He stretches and rubs his eyes before leaving his cave to investigate. Whatever was thrown in sounded  _ big _ and Connor finds he isn’t terribly hungry. 

Still wiping the sleep from his eyes, Connor freezes. It’s a body. One of the security guards from the day before. There’s no blood, but the man isn’t moving. Connor feels cold dread course through him. Is the man okay? Is he awake? Is he alive? He wraps his arms around the man’s torso and drags him above water, draping him over a rock and lifting himself to investigate. 

He gasps audibly and backs away. The man’s face and neck is covered in scratches, one deep gash across his neck. The work is messy and Connor gets the sick feeling it’s meant to look like he killed the man. He retreats fast, swimming to the edge closest to where he knows Markus comes from. He doesn’t know what else to do, so he screams. He uses the unnatural shriek his kind is capable of. Markus has heard the wail before, when Connor was first brought here. He’ll come. 

He’ll help.

Markus is in the breakroom, halfway through his sandwich when he hears it. A ghostly, pained cry. All talk in the room dies, heads turn towards the door. His hair stands on end and he throws his sandwich down, ignoring the cries of confusion from his coworkers as he sprints out the door. He runs full tilt to the closed exhibition. 

Connor sobs when Markus runs into view, “Markus! There’s a- I didn’t do it! I swear I would never! Markus, they’re gonna give me to her!”

Markus looks confused until he sees the body, and all color drains from his face, “Oh shit. Con, what happened?”

“I don’t know! I was sleeping and heard a splash. I thought you came early, but when I came out, I saw him! I thought he was still alive, so I brought him above water. He’s dead, Markus! It looks like a wild animal ravaged him! It looks like _ I _ did it!” 

Connor cowers behind a rock as other employees run to the scene, some screaming and others quietly swearing. One girl has her phone pressed to her ear, sobbing into the phone. Markus looks at Connor and motions to the spare room. He goes, if only to escape the horrible scene.

...

Hank is just sitting down to dinner with Cole when his phone rings. He glances at it and sighs, “Cole, gimme a sec? It’s the boss.”

Cole nods and starts in on his burger as Hank stands and walks into the living room to answer, “Yeah?”

“There’s been a murder at the zoo.” He sounds exhausted, “Caller says it looks like the… Jesus, like the mermaid killed a guy?”

Ice runs down Hank’s spine, “What?!”

“I know. Mermaid? She says she works there and he’s a new exhibit. Will you check it out? Take Chris?”

“Right away.” He ends the call and quickly calls Ben. When he answers, Hank keeps his voice quiet, “Can you watch Cole? I got a call.”

“Sure, yeah. I’ll be there in five.”

“Thanks, Ben.” Hank turns to Cole, who has shifted in his seat to watch, “Cole… I gotta go.”

“I heard something about the Zoo. We couldn’t see Connor when we went today, is something wrong? Did something happen to him?”

Hank sits across his son and sighs, “I don’t know. But I’m gonna find out. Ben is coming over to keep you safe, ok?”

“Make sure Connor is safe, dad.”


End file.
